


marry me (today and every day)

by huphilpuffs



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Manchester, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 04:30:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10823790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huphilpuffs/pseuds/huphilpuffs
Summary: There was a bounce to his stance and hope in his heart and a ring in his pocket.





	marry me (today and every day)

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out, again, to Gisele for beta'ing this for me. No trigger warnings apply to my knowledge.

Manchester was beautiful.

He forgot, sometimes, how much he loved this city. He’d let it get drown out in his memory by his experiences in London and his love of the city he called home. The views they’d seen in Manchester paled in comparison as memories aged, his life there slightly less vibrant, slightly less happy, than that which London had given him.

But standing on the streets of the first city he’d been alone in to call home, he found himself remembering how he’d loved the city. How he’d looked out at it and admired its beauty, how he’d lived within it for so many moments of his life.

That day, there was a nostalgic warmth in his chest. There was a bounce to his step and a nervous twist in his gut and grocery bags cutting off circulation to his fingertips. And there was a city full of memories dulled by the passage of time but warm and joyous all the same surrounding.

The building he ended up stepping into was all too familiar, drawing his steps to a pause with a stutter of reminiscence. Like stepping back in time to moments when he still had law textbooks to study and YouTube was smaller and living together was a new shift in their relationship.

He hadn’t been back there since they’d moved, packed their life into boxes on a whim and left behind the first flat they’d shared.

But that day he found himself going back, bags in hand and nerves fluttering in his chest as he reached what was once their front door.

There was a bounce to his stance and hope in his heart and a ring in his pocket.

And he knocked.

\---

Dan was a romantic.

There was a time in his life when he liked to deny it, hide his enjoyment of affection and adoration behind scoffs and exaggerated gags. When he thought it was too unlike him to reveal that romantic movies made him smile and happy couples warmed his heart and his own love story was enough to make giddy excitement bubble within his chest.

But even then, it had lingered in the quiet moments when cameras were put away and authenticity was something not to be sacrificed.

On rare nights when he and Phil would curl up on the couch and throw on a rom-com, and he’d start the film rolling his eyes at its predictability and end it with his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder and a smile on his face. He’d pluck at Phil’s fingers with his own and hide the stain of red on his cheeks in his boyfriend’s shoulder even though Phil knew that side of him better than anyone.

On Skype calls when he’d mumble a _I don’t want to hang up_ under his breath like a pitiful whine that Phil would pretend not to hear all the while echoing it with his own distaste for separation. Where Dan would curl up with his pillow and watch Phil do absolutely nothing until his eyes started to droop, only to wake up to a Skype call still going, Phil’s sleeping face on his screen and Dan’s own cracking into a smile.

On nights where everything piled on his chest in the best way. In that warm way where remembering their success in their careers and, more-so, in their relationship, didn’t fill him with crushing fear that it would all fall apart, but with certainty that he was okay and _happy_. And on those nights he’d find himself in bed with Phil, arms wrapped around his waist and a chest pressed to his back and whispered words falling from his lips, mumbles of how grateful he is for Phil, for the life they share, for everything yet to come.

It was after one of those nights that he bought the ring.

The smallest of things had prompted it, a day of playing video games together, laughter ringing through their home and joy crinkling the corners of his eyes in the best way. There’d been a comment about playing it for the gaming channel and dinner and that night he’d had Phil’s arms wrapped around him as he realized how _easy_ it could be to be in love, to be happy.

Phil had pressed a kiss to his head when he’d whispered as much, hands rubbing soothing circles against his stomach, and in that moment he’d made up his mind.

It was always meant to be forever.

That day he promised himself that he’d make sure Phil knew it too.

And he went out and bought the ring.

\---

There was a stranger on the other side of the door with a warm smile and familiar voice, and Dan fumbled with the bags in his hands to shake hers. There was a smile on his face, too, an apartment of familiar walls and unfamiliar belongings just inches away and anticipation bubbling in his gut.

“You must be Dan,” she said.

He nodded. “And you must be Lexi,” he responded, watching her own nod of response. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this.”

Her smile lifted one corner of her mouth, deals already made over the phone echoing in the silence between them. His fingers ached from holding the bags, his cheeks, from his smile. But Lexi was reaching behind her for a jacket she pulled over her shoulders and clutching her keys in her hand and stepping aside to let him into her home as though he knew more than her address.

“How could I say no after you spilled your guts about wanting this to be _perfect_?” she asked, voice soft but lilted with teasing.

His cheeks burned as he forced out a laugh, the memory too vivid, too embracing.

Dan was a romantic. The kind who rambled about how much he loved his boyfriend to a stranger so she would lend him her apartment for a day.

“I cleaned up the main rooms,” she continued. “Text me when it’s over?”

He nodded because there was suddenly a weight on his chest reminding him of what _it_ was. That there was a ring in his pocket and a promise on the tip of his tongue and that _it_ was happening that day.

She seemed to understand. “I hope it goes perfectly,” she said.

And Dan was an anxious person, a pessimist, most of the time. But he was also a romantic and certainty was settling in his gut.

“It will.”

\---

Dan was a romantic in other ways.

He was tender and soft and had a heart vulnerable to the effects of affection and joy, but he was also a perfectionist and a planner and perhaps a _tad_ dramatic. And through the ease of quiet moments playing with his boyfriend’s fingers like his shy teenage self did years ago made giddiness bubble within him, there was a certain heart-racing adoration he held for the big moments, too.

So when he had a ring in his hand, a black tungsten one framed in bands of silver, and determination in his chest to _ask_ , the only thing he needed was a plan.

It crossed his mind for a moment that Phil wouldn’t have had a complex plan if he was the one intending to drop on one knee and ask for forever. That Phil was the type to have his video “script” be more of a vague idea of what he wanted to cover with room for his brain to complete thoughts in the moment. That Phil would have proposed with a small idea and a speech made up on the spot and Dan would have loved that, too.

But Dan wasn’t that type of person. He was the type to write out his video “scripts” almost word for word, and to make sure every aspect of his background was perfectly in place when filming. He was the type to propose in some elaborate, too-thought-out way and with a speech practiced for hours on end to make sure the intonation of every word communicated his emotions the best way he knew how.

And Phil loved _him,_ Dan, who whispered sappy comments about being in love with his best friend at night and spent the next day making Phil read his video script over for him to ensure it was good.

And Dan loved Phil, and he knew Phil would appreciate whatever way he chose to propose. He just needed to make sure he loved it, too.

\---

The idea had come on a whim. In a split second where he was turning to look at Phil and the smile split across his boyfriend’s face had brought him back to when they were young. When they’d both been hurt and healed each other and when life seemed like an endless expanse of possibility as long as they were together.

It was, he’d later learn. Together, they’d do so much than his younger self could have ever imagined.

And it was that thought that had him scrambling from the room with mutterings of needing the bathroom, already fishing his phone from his pocket, typing _Manchester_ into Google as though it would provide him the perfect place to propose.

It didn’t.

There was a scramble of ideas in his head. Whispers and shouts against the walls of his skull naming places in the first city that had been their shared home where he could ask. There was the train station where Dan had first rushed into Phil’s arms. The past site of the Wheel of Manchester where the ghost of their first kiss lingered, vivid in his memory. The skybar where they’d first stared out at the city together with cheeks tinged pink and giggles filling the space between them.

The problem was that, though Dan was sure Phil would love it no matter what, he also knew none of those places _fit_. That Phil had anxiety and so did Dan and neither of them liked being in the public eye without a persona to fall behind and jokes to crack. Neither would want the attention of a crowd watching as they pledged their lives to each other as though the promise wasn’t already tangible, however unspoken.

That and it seemed off, somehow, to go back to a spot they’d shared a handful of times for such a big moment. The voices in his head whispered reminders that his relationship with Phil wasn’t about a series of milestones, as brilliant and vivid as they were.

It was about the moments in between. Video games and bickering over cereal and sharing pizza and sitting side by side in the morning watching anime.

It was about the life they shared, and the life they had shared, back when Dan wouldn’t let his hair stay curly and Phil’s fringe was longer over his forehead and there was no radio show, no books, no tour in their memories together. When they were infinitely complex as individuals but everything _together_ seemed infinitely simple.

Sometimes it still did.

Like proposing. It felt huge, but it felt simple somehow. And stumbling back up the stairs to join Phil, he’d known exactly where he was going to ask.

\---

The setup took way more time than the hour Dan spent in the apartment that day. It involved tracking Lexi down and making an awkward phone call full of stuttering over questions and intentions and rambling about every detail of the plan that would work if only she said yes.

It involved calling up friends they had in Manchester and filling them in, asking them for help. Booking train tickets and a hotel room and handing them to Phil like a surprise with no ulterior motives whatsoever and a smile on his face. Spending a whole day with a ring burning a hole in his pocket and knowledge that he was going to _propose_ heavy on his mind.

It involved slipping away to go shopping, leaving with an abundance of tea lights and rainbow confetti and balloons that reminded him of the colour Phil had brought to his life. And setting it all up in the apartment that was once theirs, dotting the breakfast bar with candles and tying balloons to the furniture of Lexi’s lounge and sprinkling confetti on the floor by the door.

And he found himself standing in an apartment that wasn’t his, lights off and candlelight flickering, staring at the clock on his phone and a text conversation with a friend about how close they were.

How close _Phil_ was.

It involved a knock on the door, and Dan pulling it open to find Phil standing there with brows furrowed and hand hovering in midair.

And the biggest of smiles that cracked across his face.

\---

Phil was a romantic too.

Not quite in the same way as Dan, though.

Phil was more unspoken promises and wordless kisses pressed to Dan’s cheeks and shoulders and head like silent mutterings of _I love you_ against Dan’s skin. He was soft smiles and butterfly kisses and hugs so soft, so warm, Dan would melt into him and stay there until they had to pull away.

It was laced within their every interaction, a subtle undertone to the life they shared that Dan adored.

On rare nights when he and Phil would curl up on the couch and throw on a rom-com, because Phil suggested they do so, because he knew Dan loved them but was too shy about it to admit it. He’d sit there and hold Dan with the tender smile that so often curled at the corners of his mouth and a soft tone falling from his lips when the credits rolled. And, almost without fail, he’d slip some sappy line from the film into a conversation the next day, voice lilted enough for it to seem sarcastic if they weren’t both aware of the way it made Dan’s cheeks tinge pink.

On Skype calls when he’d ignore Dan’s whining about hanging up to save him the embarrassment, but babble about his hatred of distance and start new conversations about nothing important so they could stay on the line. He’d keep the call going while silence lapsed between them because that was Phil’s type of love; the subtle, mundane kind that leaked into their not-quite-conversations in the early hours of the morning. And he’d continue the call after Dan fell asleep just so they could wake up together the next morning.

On nights when everything piled on Dan’s chest in the best way. When he was certain Phil could tell before he said a word, because his touch was gentler and his smile was sweet. When Dan would babble about their success, about their love, and Phil would tug him deeper into their embrace and hum agreement against his neck. And Phil would press kisses to the top of his head before they fell asleep.

Those were just some of the reasons he bought the ring.

Others were mornings spent bickering over cereal where Phil would lean over and kiss him to make him shut up. And afternoons spent playing video games where Phil would let him be the too-competitive and but still put up a fight to win. And evenings watching TV, each on their computers, showing each other random videos of animals and pointing out flaws in the show’s plot points.

They were small things but he loved them, and he knew Phil did, too.

Because Phil was the type of romantic who loved the idea of a marriage, rather than a wedding.

And Dan was the type of romantic who wanted both.

\---

“Hi,” he said, voice wavering as he spoke.

The ring box was suddenly heavy in his pocket, faced with wide blue eyes flickering with the firelight from the apartment behind him. Words weighed on his tongue, practiced to perfection but suddenly tinged with nerves, with a minute inkling of doubt.

“Hi,” said Phil, word lilted with a question, with confusion.

Dan reached down to take his hand, thread their fingers together and draw him deeper into a stranger’s apartment that they’d once called home. He drew the door closed behind Phil, led him down the hall to where the lounge they’d once occupied met the kitchen where their first baking videos were filmed.

His thumb coasted over Phil’s knuckles, holding him close while Dan forced away the lump in his throat and the nerves festering in his chest. As he forced words from the tip of his tongue.

“This was our first home,” he said. “We made it a home even though it was never really anything special. Just enough walls to hold our memories.”

Phil nodded at the words, his smile making Dan turn his head from the expanse of the apartment before them to stare at Phil instead.

“It should have been scary to move in here, to move in with you,” he continued. “It was such a big step, but in never really felt like one. Living with you seemed like the most natural thing in the world.” He paused, squeezed Phil’s hand to make him turn away from the lounge, too. So he could catch Phil’s eyes, alight with joy and brimming with love. “It still does.”

Phil nodded, lips parting though he didn’t say a word.

Dan waited only a second to continue speaking, laughter ringing quietly in the next lines of his speech. “There’s all these quotes on the internet about home being a person, not a place. And I want to laugh at them, but I can’t,” he said. “Because when I think of home, I’ve never thought of this place, or the flat in London, or our new place.”

There was a smile on his face that was mirrored on Phil’s, and the weight in his chest lessened when Phil nodded his agreement.

“I know you’re not one for big romantic gestures, and that this is mainly for my benefit. Because you love the little things, the small ways we love each other, so much more,” he said. “And so do I. All the bickering over pizza toppings and talking over movies and mornings wasted away in bed, I love them. They’re what make a home.”

He squeezed Phil’s hand again, the other dipping into his pocket to pull out the ring box. Phil’s gaze followed his movements, chest hitching as though what was going on wasn’t obvious.

“You’re the only person who’s ever felt like home.” whispered Dan. “And being with you has made me the happiest I’ve ever been.”

They were standing between the breakfast bar they used to eat at and the couch they played video games on, surrounded by the walls that made their first home. There was a ring box in his hand and a smile on his face and tears just barely gleaming in Phil’s eyes.

He dropped onto one knee, fumbled with the box to pop it open, staring up at Phil.

“You already know this, but I want to be with you forever,” he breathed. “Will you marry me?”

Phil chuckled through his response, nodding his head. “Of course,” he managed, giggling and stuttering and drawing Dan back to his feet with their hands still joined.

He wrapped his arms around Phil’s shoulders, the ring box slamming shut in his fist but it didn’t matter. Not when Phil was looping his own arms around Dan’s waist and clutching at him and smiling so wide that Dan could feel it against his shoulder.

“You’re a sap,” said Phil.

Dan giggled, silenced the sound with a kiss to Phil’s head. “You love it.”

“I love you,” breathed Phil.

\---

Manchester was beautiful.

Perhaps he was looking at it through rose coloured glasses, still swept away in the bliss of getting down on one knee and proposing, of sliding a ring onto Phil’s finger with a promise of forever. Perhaps it was just that memories seemed less dim when standing on the balcony of his old home staring out at the city with the man he loved.

But standing there with his arm looped around Phil’s waist and black hair tickling his neck because Phil’s head was resting on his shoulder, he loved the city. Loved it for all the beauty and growth it had brought to his life, for all the moments it bore witness to, a silent backdrop to some of the best days of his life.

That day, there was a loving warmth in his chest, a soft smile on his face and an easy sway to his stillness. And a city full of memories that he hadn’t expected to house new ones, but it glowed bright and vibrant and did all the same.

There was an empty box in his pocket and a ring on Phil’s finger and his _fiancé_ nestled against his side.

And he smiled.


End file.
